


No Words

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drama, M/M, Pining, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: They didn’t need words for this sort of thing.





	No Words

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on July 23, 2013 as “Drabble #25 - Skids/Chromedome.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on September 10, 2019. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

They spent their time together in silence, usually. Both of them were used to someone else being their mouthpiece. Sure, they had a line to interject here or there, usually sarcastic or pointing out the obvious, but they were content to let the chattier half of their duo talk the most. It was easier that way.

Besides, you didn’t really need words for this.

Skids bit into the side of Chromedome’s neck, as the slim mech’s hands clung to his back and teased the end of his door-wings. Chromedome’s face-plate rubbed hard into Skids’ helm, nuzzling and scratching. A bumping and clanging sort of affection unique to those whose face-plates hid no mouth. Skids used his teeth equally in return, and clung back to the slim mech. He shifted and ground against Chromedome as if he were a starving mech drinking down energon in this tiny corner of the oil room. 

Far away from everyone else on the Lost Light.

Chromedome was perfect for this. Skids’ offers were always met with sarcasm and commentary at how stupid it was, and how he could do better. Chromedome never said no. He understood. He knew how badly Skids needed this contact. This connection with another spark who knew the pain of memories lost. Chromedome didn’t know what he was missing in his own head, but somewhere he could feel it. That empty place where thoughts and haunted memories should be–he felt it, too.

It was something Skids’ other friends just couldn’t provide, no matter how well meaning or caring they intended.

Skids buried his face into Chromedome’s neck, smelling oil and energon flush at the surface of every conduit and pathway. Heat and warmth and the life giving everything that drove processors to madness. Skids’ hands groped along Chromedome’s form, until his fingers found the series of wires that joined them together deeper and more fully than the bodies pressed. He wound his finger around a thick black wire, and whined as he pulled and tugged, feeling the flowing energy across the copper.

Chromedome kicked a crate behind them as he moved, their chests crashing together. Frantic clanging that echoed across the empty room. More hands finding whatever they could grasp, scraping and pulling. Skids cycling heavy as he sent pulses across the bond, reaching for Chromedome’s spark with his own. Their energy crashed into each other, mingled, and returned new and fresh until a peak was reached.

And everything went white.

Skids slumped against Chromedome, sated and spent. Scratched, and scuffs of mismatched paint to be polished later covered their frames. Skids pushed off, and rolled to the side, leaning on the edge of the oil pool. Down below the dark liquid was settled and still, undisturbed by their frantic interface. Skids envied it.

Chromedome sat up and tapped his knuckles into Skids’ shoulder. The theoretician took the offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position. He leaned against Chromedome and together they waited in silence for systems to cool.

Yeah, they didn’t need words for this.


End file.
